One More Year
by Vague Notion
Summary: Following 2x20. "This was not the Kurt Hummel he knew; this was not the overbearing, prideful drama queen he had learned to call his brother. Finn never wanted to see Kurt like this again." FinnKurt bonding, info inside.


Immediately following Prom Queen (2x20). Contains spoilers, obviously, so the backspace button is a fantastic option for those of you with something else to do on Tuesday nights.

I don't really know why I'm jumping on this bandwagon, but I loved this episode, and I'm always a fan of brother bonding between Finn and Kurt. I see great potential for exactly that with this episode. So! Onward to what you care about.

Warnings: Rated T for language. This is not meant to be a pairing.

Thanks for reading!

-x-x-x-

All those faces. Each one more bitter than the last, more resentful. Behind those eyes was malice, and a streak of enjoyment that he had hoped to never see again; the kind that Karofsky had when he winked at him all those weeks ago. Or was it months now? He couldn't remember. All the images of Karofsky bullying him had been burned away, replaced with all those _faces_.

He could remember how it felt, the blood draining to the bottom of his stomach, and then rushing back to his face. The dead silence in the gym, as all those eyes slowly turned toward him: girls who thought he was stealing something that should have belonged to them; guys who were disgusted by the very idea of what he was. He stared at Principle Figgins for a long moment, taking just as long as anyone else to register what had been said. Even as the eyes started turning, he just stared.

Then he looked around. He shouldn't have, but the eyes were burning at his skin, searing through his hand-made suit. He began to breathe faster. He swallowed and blinked a few times. Shifted his weight.

And _ran_.

He couldn't remember those few steps, shoving his way past Mike and Tina, bursting out the door of the gym. He_ could_ remember Blaine shouting his name, the only voice in a sea of silence. But he didn't-no, _couldn't_-stop. He pumped his legs and swung his arms, racing down the hallway, away from any chance of those eyes finding him. Tears were racing down his cheeks by the time he slid around the corner.

Wearily, Kurt pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes. The memories of the night were so damn _vivid_, he just wanted them gone. His pep talk to Blaine, his consulting himself, his refusal to be made a laughing stock... None of it mattered. Whatever fragile pride he had found was gone now. It had vanished when he closed the door to his bedroom behind him, finally ending the day. No more Burt storming the living room, no more Carole trying to balance Finn's anger with Kurt's reserved sadness. No more Finn damning Jesse for keeping him away from helping Kurt.

Just silence. Safe silence, not the kind in the gym. Not the kind that was so heavy with hate and shock, born from a prank that didn't turn out to be funny after all. It just made everyone angry.

He didn't look for his satin pajamas in the drawers of his mother's old dresser. He found a pair of flannel plaid pajama pants and a t-shirt, changed as quickly as he could get that damn suit off, and crawled under the blankets. There were no lights to turn out; he hadn't turned them on.

And he cried. He cried for ten minutes, twenty, forty, an hour. He hugged one pillow to his chest, burying himself in a cocoon of blankets to muffle his sobs. The tears came in waves, mellowing out long enough for him to remember Dave, walking away from him so flustered and scared. Then they would be renewed, and he would wish Blaine was there. Not to comfort him with words, but with a shoulder to cry on.

He wasn't strong. He didn't _feel_strong, not any more. No one pushes the Hummels around, his dad always told him, but when it's the entire school, Kurt is shoved right off his feet.

They all _hated_ him. They all wanted to see him be embarrassed, to see him cry. To make him feel unwelcome, and see the look on his face when Figgins read his name up on stage. But when they actually heard it-when they realized that Kurt had legitimately _won_, and now their prom was _tainted_-then it wasn't funny. The joke had soured. They're prank had backfired, and Kurt was to blame for it. Closing his eyes tightly, Kurt bit his lip bloody and held his breath. He wanted to go back to Dalton, he wanted to go back where people were friendly and Blaine was there and there were _no fucking proms_. The thought made him cry harder.

The digital clock read _2:03am _when he finally sat up, pushing the blankets off of his sore, pale arms. His dark room hung around him like the fog of a dream, real but not consciously there. Sliding off of his bed, he stood with mild concern for his balance and took a few small steps toward the door.

Everyone would be asleep. Burt and Carole rarely stayed up passed eleven, and Finn had looked so flustered and angry that he had surely been wiped out. Still, Kurt took great care in opening his door quietly, not wanting to alert anyone that he was leaving his room.

He was not used to the new house when it was dark. It had been a few months since they had moved, but with all his time spent at Dalton and in his new room, he hadn't yet become familiar with the dark hallways. Silently, he moved down the stairs into the front hall, eyeing around the corner and appreciating the lack of color. He didn't want happy hues after what had happened that night.

The kitchen felt more open, as though the air were more free to move around. Flinching at the feel of cold tile under his bare feet, Kurt moved quickly and slid onto a bar stool beside the island counter. Hugging his arms around his chest, he looked toward the fridge, squinting to make out the photographs and magnets scattered across it.

For a long time, he just sat. There were no eyes here, no scolding looks or clenching fists. Not even the memory of his mother to make him feel more alone. The kitchen was neutral in a way his room was not, and finally, Kurt managed to take a deep breath.

At some point, he stood and pulled open the fridge door. Pale florescent light flooded out onto the floor, cascading around him and illuminating the tile floor. Squinting some, Kurt reached his hand into the cold depths of the fridge and fished out a can of ginger ale. For a moment, he stared at the cake Carole had made for them when they had planned to return from a normal, hate-free prom. He could smell the chocolate frosting, and in an act of uncharacteristic impulsiveness, he lifted the plate out of the fridge as well.

When he turned and kicked the fridge closed, the light vanished. Squinting again to regain his sight, he slid the cake safely onto the counter and turned toward the knife block.

"Kurt?"

The countertenor flinched and spun on his heal, an obscenity slipping out between a gasp. A tall dark figure stood in the doorway to the kitchen, hands raised.

"Woah, sorry, I thought you could hear me."

Kurt stood frozen for a moment before easing out of his shock. He looked quickly toward the cake, wishing that he was still alone.

"It's alright, Finn," he muttered, turning and pulling a knife from the block before turning back to the cake. There was a pause between them as he sunk the blade into it, cutting himself a generous portion and pulled it directly onto the counter top to eat-screw plates.

"... So why are _you _awake?"

Kurt refused to look away from his slice of cake, focusing as he used the knife to cut a chunk off and stuck it like a kabob, lifting it to his mouth.

"Yeah," Finn sighed, "dumb question." He ran a hand over his messy hair and stepped farther into the kitchen, pulling out a bar stool and perching on it. "Listen, I'm sorry all I could rant about tonight was Jesse. I just-"

"Don't," Kurt muttered, cracking the can of soda open and bending the tab back and forth until it broke off. "It's alright. My dad freaking out was bad enough."

He didn't look up to see Finn's face fall, shame evident even in the dark. After a small pause, Kurt slid the cake across the counter and offered the knife, still avoiding eye contact. Finn looked at it for a moment before accepting it, cutting his own slice without a word.

"... Was Blaine there for you?"

Kurt took an extra sip of soda before lowering the can. "Yeah."

Finn pushed an unholy amount of cake into his mouth and nodded. "Good. He'sh a good boyfwend," he nodded, offering his opinion while chewing. Kurt was too drained to even mind.

"Yes, he is."

Finn swallowed. Kurt hadn't looked up at him once, not even to spare the tiniest glance. He wasn't smiling, he wasn't trying to put on a show. There were no walls hiding what he was feeling, not this late at night. Not in their dark kitchen, with cake between them and awkward conversation hanging in the air.

Finn didn't like it at all.

"Fuck them," he said suddenly after swallowing, startling Kurt. "Fuck all of 'em. You're awesome, Kurt, and it doesn't matter what they think or do. You'll always have the Glee club. We'll protect you."

Kurt's tired eyes lifted toward him, finally, and Finn felt a momentary rush of pride in how his Big Brother Mode was coming along. But instead of smiling, or saying something to help brighten the mood, Kurt just dropped his eyes again.

"One more year, huh," the smaller teen muttered.

Finn didn't have to voice his confusion. Kurt gave a small, bitter laugh and stared at his slice of cake.

"One more year, and I never have to see any of them again."

Finn stared at his step brother, not totally comprehending the statement for what it was. Finn had always been popular; even with the Glee club drama, he still had friends everywhere. The amount of dirty looks was outweighed by friendly hellos. For the first time, he realized how Kurt didn't have that. Certainly not enough to keep that prank from getting voted through, certainly not enough for him to feel welcome. Finn was _nervous _because they only had one more year; Kurt was thankful for it.

"... I'm sorry. I'm just in a bad place right now."

Finn closed his mouth, unaware that it had been open, and swallowed. "Don't be. You have every reason to feel this way."

Kurt's head shook as he lifted a hand to smooth his hair back. "No, I mean... I know you're upset about the whole Rachael thing, and Sam and his family are dealing with a lot, and Quinn and Puck had the whole baby scare with you last year... This is _my _hill to climb."

"None of us had the entire school shunning us."

"Well why not?" Kurt retorted quickly, his eyes snapping back to Finn's. "Why is my very _existence _so much worse than any of the shit the football players do? Why am I the only one who has to feel this kind of hate?"

Finn could hear the wavering in Kurt's tone. The only other time he had heard it was when Kurt tried to defend Finn when Burt caught him saying 'faggy'. His heart sank.

"I just want it to be over," Kurt whispered, dropping his head onto his arms, folded on the counter next to his cake. "I'll go to cosmetology school or something. I'll move to San Francisco where I can hold hands with Blaine in public and not get iced coffees thrown at me."

Finn sat there, silent. His mind was suddenly blank.

"I know you like high school, Finn," Kurt muttered, his voice muffled beneath his arms. "But I look forward to getting away from this shit-hole town."

Silence returned between them, and Finn looked down at his half-eaten cake in search of answers. His mind yielded nothing, just an echo of Kurt's words. For a long time, he sat listening to the clock tick, only looking up from his cake when Kurt sat back up and took a other bite of his. The digital clock on the microwave changed from _2:45 _to _3:13_, and on to _3:27 _before Finn stood and walked around the counter.

Kurt only looked up the second before Finn's arms engulfed him, pulling him into an strong hug. He sat rigid in his step brother's hold, staring out the kitchen door for a moment. Finn was warm, and his t-shirt smelled like the lavender dryer sheets Carole always bought. Kurt was reminded, for the tiniest, most minuscule second of his mother, and tears were sitting on his eyelashes before he could catch them.

"I'm sorry, Kurt," Finn whispered. "I'm sorry about everything. About the slushies and the dumpsters, and you having to transfer, and now this. I'm so, _so _sorry."

Finn felt the bridge of his nose tingle, like it always did when tears were surging toward freedom. His arms tightened around Kurt like a lifeline, and he felt hot, righteous stubbornness burn in his stomach. This was not the Kurt Hummel he knew; this was not the overbearing, prideful drama queen he had learned to call his brother. Finn never wanted to see Kurt like this again.

"Thank you," Kurt exhaled, reaching up and weaving an arm between Finn's to wipe his eye. "I don't know where I'd be without Glee club."

Finn stared solemnly at the little carpet that sat on the floor in front of the sink. Without breaking the hold, he closed his eyes and dropped his head, sighing.

"Me neither."

-x-x-x-

I have no idea if this is a happy ending or not. But, I also have to idea how else to end this. So.

Please review!


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